29: EVERYTHING FADED

The warmth of Erythian's body was still on Lysandra's skin when the world outside shattered.

The echoes of screaming tore through the palace walls, and the ground trembled beneath them. They lay tangled in silken sheets, their breathing still uneven from the passion they had just shared, when the first explosion shook the air.

Then came the cries.

"They're here! They're here!"

The words rang out like a death sentence.

Lysandra's heart slammed against her ribs. She shot upright, her dark hair tumbling over her bare shoulders as her eyes darted toward the window. Outside, the sky burned red, fire licking at the night like an omen of doom. People ran in every direction, their terrified voices drowning in the crackle of flames and the metallic clash of swords.

Erythian was already moving, his body, powerful and battle-hardened, was tense with readiness as he reached for his sword. 

His gaze flicked to her, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

He reached for her hand, his grip firm yet warm. "We don't have time to think, Lysandra. We fight."

Her breath hitched, but she nodded. 

There was no hesitation between them, no question of whether or not they would stand together. 

This was their home and they knew they HAD to stand together to be able to defend it with everything they had.

Erythian crushed his lips against hers, hard and desperate, as if sealing a silent vow between them. She melted into him, gripping his arms, wanting to linger in this moment just one more second, just one more kiss before they plunged into the chaos.

But there was no more time.

They pulled apart, their chests heaving as they sprinted toward the armor stand. 

In hurried, practiced movements, they strapped on their war gear. 

Lysandra pulled her breastplate tight, fastening the clasps at her sides as Erythian slid his sword into its sheath.

They met each other's gaze once more, "What a fascinating woman you are…a queen who goes to war for her kingdom" Erythian says calmly to Lysandra and a faint smile comes upon her face as he gives her a very tight hug, as though it was the last time they would ever hug; the intensity between them was thick with unspoken emotion.

Then they ran.

The corridors of the palace were filled with smoke and panic. 

The air reeked of burning wood, of blood, of death. Bodies of fallen guards littered the stone floors, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Lysandra clenched her jaw.

They stormed through the entrance, stepping into the battlefield that was once the heart of Calithea.

The sight made her stomach churn.

The soldiers were foreign and ruthless, they poured through the shattered palace gates. They were clad in dark armor, their blades already soaked with the blood of her people. Some of them had broken down the walls, charging in with war cries that rattled the very ground beneath them.

Lysandra and Erythian didn't pause.

They dove into the fight.

Their swords clashed against the enemy's, the ringing sound piercing through the chaos. Lysandra fought with a fluid grace, striking down her opponents with precision, her body moving like a phantom among them. 

Erythian was brutal and merciless, his blade carved through the invading forces like they were nothing more than weeds in his path.

But it wasn't enough.

For every soldier they felled, more took their place. And all around them, Calithea's forces were crumbling.

Lysandra could barely breathe as she watched her people, her loyal warriors, fall one by one. 

The streets ran red with blood, and in the distance, the palace walls continued to crumble under enemy fire.

Her heart wrenched with agony.

This was happening because of her.

She knew it.

She felt it in her bones.

They had come for her.

And as she fought beside Erythian, their swords cutting through the night, a single thought burned through her mind.

Will we even survive this?

Erythian must have sensed it. 

Because when she looked at him again, she caught something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before.

Sadness.

A terrible, aching sadness.

As if he knew.

As if he could already see the moment she had just seen.

And then—

Lysandra made her choice.

With one final glance at the love of her life, she turned.

And she ran.

Erythian's voice roared behind her. "LYSANDRA! NO!"

But she didn't stop.

Her legs carried her across the battlefield, past the flames, past the dying cries of her people, until she reached the remnants of a crumbled pillar near the palace steps.

She climbed.

Higher and higher, until she stood above them all.

The moment she raised the trumpet to her lips, silence fell.

The sound was piercing, cutting through the chaos like a blade. 

Soldiers, both friend and foe turned toward her, with their weapons frozen mid-strike. 

The fires crackled. 

The embers burned. 

And then, she lifted a white flag.

Gasps rippled through the battlefield.

"I surrender," her voice rang out, firm and unshaken. "I am the one you came for."

Erythian's sword dropped.

His breath caught.

His face twisted with pure rage and horror.

He lunged forward, breaking into a sprint toward her. "Lysandra, don't—" 

Then a blade struck him, piercing him from the back and right through to the right side of his chest; it was sharp, deep and extremely brutal.

Time stopped.

Lysandra's vision blurred as she watched him stumble, blood blooming across his armor.

"No," she breathed silently as her eyes darted in confusion, she had just surrendered, she had just given them everything they wanted, so why Erythian?!

Her chest caved in as she leapt down from the pillar, racing toward him with all the speed she had left in her, all she wanted to do was get to him early enough and to use all of the power she had left within her to heal him, to heal the man that she loved, all she wanted was to still have Erythian by her side, and so she ran; The world around her melted away, the battle forgotten, the war forgotten, there was only…him.

Erythian collapsed to his knees.

His breath shuddered, his fingers twitching as they reached for her, it was like a cry for help but many would see it as a man who wanted to spend his final moments with the love of his life.

She screamed and she kept running when all of a sudden, the enemy soldiers grabbing her from behind, yanking her away as she fought and clawed to get to him.

"ERYTHIAN!"

His gaze met hers.

"NO! NO!…please please let me just heal him, please!" She cried so loudly "I'm all yours right after I heal him please, please don't let him die please" she cried and screamed at the top of her voice.

And then—

His body gave out.

She saw it.

She saw the moment his strength left him.

His lips parted, his voice hoarse as he tried to call her name. "Lys—"

And then his hand fell limply to the ground.

Still.

Unmoving.

Her heart shattered.

She lurched forward to try and get to him, but hands so many hands held her down and were dragging her away.

"No" she whispered as tears gather in her eyes and she watched the horrific scene that was happening to Erythian.

Blood dripped from her head. Her vision swam. The pain in her chest was unbearable.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think.

The last thing she saw before darkness took her was his lifeless body, bathed in the firelight.

And then—

Everything faded.